Dark Burning: Dark Falls, CO Romantic Thriller Book 6 Page 9

  Grant’s face pinched at the name. “Yes. That lady used to come in and shake her ass in front of me in these tiny little skirts. She’d ask for help with the photocopier or something and then be all over me. But then one day she’s all, I don’t like the way he’s looking at me, and he’s standing too close to me, so then Kate—”

  “Kate was your supervisor? Kate Akers?”

  “Yeah, so Kate goes out looking for people who will file complaints against me. She’s like asking women, hey do you have a complaint you want to file against him?”

  “Two of those complaints came from people at Falco Realty and Hayes Realty?”

  Grant lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”

  “Did you have any particular trouble with those companies?” John asked.

  Grant shrugged again. He did a lot of that. Overall, Eric thought he looked defensive and the guy was probably lying to himself if he really thought all of these complaints were motivated by this one woman, but he didn’t seem like a guy who was about to run out and start any fires over it.

  “Can you tell us where you were on April twelfth between ten p.m. and midnight?” Eric threw the question in abruptly.

  Grant’s head snapped back and he scowled again. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

  He shot a look from John to Eric and then back to John. “Whatever those women said I did, I didn’t do it. I haven’t seen any of them since I left that job.”

  Eric was the one who answered. “There have been some fires set around town. We’re looking into any connections to the real estate agencies handling the listings for the properties involved.”

  Grant was shaking his head, hands up now in the universal, it wasn’t me gesture. “I don’t know anything about any fires. That’s not me, dude.”

  Eric really hated guys who said dude.

  “Cool,” John said, casually. “Just tell us where you were and we’ll cross you off the list. This is really just a list. We have to go through, knock people off, then give it back to our captain.” He sneered a tiny bit to remind Grant that they had to deal with a female boss, too.

  Grant lowered his arms, seeming to take the explanation. “I don’t know where I was. I mean, I was probably home, but I don’t remember that far back for sure. I could have been out on a date or out with friends.”

  “Any way you could check a calendar for us?” John suggested helpfully.

  Grant shook his head. “Not really. I mean I don’t write down anything that’s not for business. Like, if I want to go out on a date, I just call a girl and say, hey let’s go out. I don’t have to plan that and write it down or anything.”

  Eric felt bad for whoever this guy was taking out. Lots of thought put into this guy’s romance.

  “All right,” John said easily, “let’s see if you can give us your whereabouts for the other days and times. They’re a little more recent.”

  He went through the list, but Grant just shook his head to all of them, including the fire that had taken place at the Cho’s home.

  “I didn’t have any reason to want to get back at them,” he said, suddenly seeming to realize it might not have been a good idea to come down so hard on his boss.

  “They helped get you fired, didn’t they?” John said, almost apologetically.

  Grant seemed to perk up at that. “Yeah, but that was a good thing. You don’t get it, I have no reason to be mad at them about that.”

  “Oh yeah?” Eric asked. “How’s that?”

  Grant pulled out the folders he’d stacked up earlier and spread them on the table. “I’m making bank now.” He looked around the apartment. “I’ll be moving out of here next month. I went and got my real estate license but I’m not doing it like all those idiots are.”

  The guy was really warming up to his subject now. “I listed myself on the internet to submit other people’s listings to the MLS.” He looked at their blank expressions. “The Multiple Listing Service. It’s how houses get onto all the online websites people look at to find a house. You see, realtors don’t want to show houses that are being sold by a private owner without a realtor. They don’t like to deal with those so if they see one come up for sale, they aren’t going to show it. And no one selling their house themselves can really market it, other than putting a half-assed sign in the yard or putting it on like Craigslist or wherever. So people selling their houses by themselves get screwed.”

  He took a breath. “But if they can get listed in MLS, then all the online sites pick up their listing and people looking for houses find it and tell their realtors, ‘hey I want to see this house.’”

  Grant was waving his hands as he spoke. “They have no choice then. The realtors have to show it to them if their clients ask or it pisses the client off. So I take a flat fee of seven hundred to be their realtor and list it in MLS for them, but that’s all I do. I don’t show the house or talk them through offers or anything. Because they don’t pay me the normal percentage of the sale. I’m selling like crazy and all I have to do is keep my website up to date and enter the listings in the MLS. It’s a cakewalk.”

  It didn’t get the guy off the hook, but if they could confirm some of what he was saying, it helped clear his name. Or at least get things headed that way.

  “Write down the name of your website here,” John said, pushing a pad and pen toward Grant.

  “And see if you can go back, look at text messages and emails for those day and nights.” Eric pushed a slip of paper Grant’s way with the dates and time frames they needed alibis for. “See if there’s anything there that jogs a memory about who you might have been with. Anything to show you couldn’t have lit the fires. Even if it’s something like going to a gas station for a six pack or something. We can see if the clerk remembers you or if they have footage or credit card receipts or something to show you were there. Any little thing can help.”

  He had a feeling Grant wasn’t their guy. He might be an asshole and he sure as hell didn’t respect women, but Eric didn’t think they were looking at their arsonist. They needed to cross him off their list definitely so they could find the right person. Find them, and build a case that would keep them behind bars for a good long stretch.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Their arsonist had other ideas. He struck the following evening, this time choosing a commercial building. It was an insurance agent, of all things.

  “It has to be said.” Eric looked at his partner.

  “It doesn’t have to be said,” John replied, but the look on his face said he knew full well Eric would say it.

  “I hope they had insurance,” said Noelle Gray, the arson investigator, stealing Eric’s thunder as she joined them.

  “Damn,” muttered Eric.

  “I couldn’t help it.” Noelle offered an utterly unrepentant grin. She led them through the scene, pointing. “Point of origin was a closet again, only this time it was a supply closet. He broke in through the back door. I’m not sure why they didn’t have an alarm. You would think an insurance agent would know the risks and get an alarm.”

  “Maybe they didn’t think they needed one. It’s a small place. If they didn’t keep much cash on hand, it’s really just the computers that would be of any value, right?” Eric looked around at the two-room office space. It was a standalone building located on the end of a parking lot that housed a strip mall on the other side. Almost like the owner of the lot had realized they could make more money if they put a building on top of a few of the lot’s parking spaces.

  John cocked his head, listening. “We’ll find out soon. I bet that’s our agent.”

  Eric and Noelle nodded. The yelling carried easily over the burned-out building. Eric would guess the agent was angry when the uniformed officer wouldn’t let him into the building. It happened.

  Eric stepped away. “I’m going to let Merritt know we have another one.” He was doing as he’d been told and keeping her informed. The jackwagon from the mayor’s office had been all over the departm
ent this week shoving his nose into places it shouldn’t be. Eric was glad it wasn’t his job to deal with the man.

  Still, he’d do his best to keep him off Captain Scanlon’s back if he could.

  He sent a quick text letting her know and then rejoined John as they walked outside to meet the agent.

  “Well, is there someone around who can tell me what’s happening?” A man in rumpled clothes with grey hair had gone hands-on-hips in front of the officer at the edge of the crime scene tape.

  “That would be us,” John said as he and Eric approached, holding up his badge and making the introductions.

  “Great, because this idiot has told me about ten times that he can’t make any statements at this time. It’s my business. I deserve a God-damned statement.”

  Eric drew the man aside, away from the abused officer. “Well, I’m afraid we don’t know much at this time. We can tell you the fire was deliberately set.”

  Noelle had confirmed that much and it wouldn’t hurt to tell the man.

  “Can we start with your name, sir?” John asked.

  The man rubbed his hands through his hair, grabbing at the tufts and pulling. “Yeah,” he said as he dropped his arms to his sides and blew out a breath. He’d left his hair standing on end. “Peter Gamet.”

  “Is this your building?” Eric asked.

  “Yes. Well, no, I mean I lease it, but the business is mine.”

  Eric nodded. “Okay, can you get us the information for the owner so we can contact them? We’re going to have questions for both of you.”

  “Is this that guy who’s been starting fires? The same one that’s been burning down empty buildings?”

  “We can’t confirm that yet, but it looks like a possibility.” It was the same line Eric would need to give Merritt when she arrived. He was pretty sure but they needed to test the accelerant and check for fingerprints and shoe prints and all of that.

  Mr. Gamet was back to tugging at his hair.

  Eric thought about asking if he had insurance to cover this but knew he couldn’t do it with a straight face. “Did you have an alarm system?” he asked instead.

  Gamet shook his head.

  “Cameras?”

  “They’re broken.” Gamet looked over at the building and rubbed a hand across his face as he blew out a breath. “People buy a lot of their insurance online nowadays. I was waiting for the money to get them fixed.”

  Eric had already sent a uniformed officer over to see if any of the stores in the strip mall across the lot had cameras that might have caught someone.

  “Can you think of anyone who might want to target you?” John asked. “Anyone who might be angry with you?”

  The man gave them a look that said the answer was a resounding yes. “I can give you a list of people whose lives were saved by their coverage or who still have a home because of their coverage. But for every one of them, there’s another one who has a beef with me. Someone who thought their policy would cover something then it didn’t. I’m careful to lay out all the information when I sell something, but they buy the policy and then don’t need it for four years, so they forget that I tried to get them to buy more coverage and they wouldn’t. They forget that they initialed all the paragraphs that told them what their plan would and wouldn’t cover.”

  “Anyone particularly angry or outspoken in the last six months?” John pressed.

  “Yeah,” Mr. Gamet said. “I have a copy of my files at home. I can get you a list. I called the police on one guy a month ago. He came in screaming and wouldn’t leave. You guys had to come get him out.”

  “Did he leave when the officers showed up?” Eric asked.

  Gamet nodded. “They talked him down and he left with them.”

  “Okay, we’ll need that list as soon as you can get it to us,” Eric said. He would run the address of the insurance agency through the system to see what else they could find. “Can you write your contact info for us?” He handed the man a pocket-sized notepad and pen.

  Eric had a feeling if they could connect the locations of the fires together, they would find their arsonist. It just remained to be seen if they could do it before he struck again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Merritt walked around the site of the second fire. It was an abandoned warehouse that had been pretty well gutted before the fire. She could still smell the smoke and char from the flames that had destroyed most of the front part of the building. She would guess that smell stayed a long time when there were no efforts at cleanup made.

  She didn’t know what she thought she would find here. She had been out when the fire first occurred but came out now hoping to be able to get a look at things. Maybe something would come to her. She didn’t know what she expected, really.

  She circled to the back of the building and looked out across the field. With its isolated location, this warehouse had been a prime target for the arsonist. There was a large stretch of land before the next building. Enough space between them so that no one would notice an arsonist coming in and setting the fire. In fact, they probably wouldn’t see anything until the fire was fully blazing and the arsonist long gone.

  Merritt walked back to her car and pointed it toward the road that should lead out to the other warehouses. When she came on the buildings, she slowed, reading the sign.

  Whitman Electronic Components. She wondered what kind of electronic components the sign referred to. The gate in the eight-foot-tall chain link fence stood open, so she turned in and drove up the drive to the first of the three large buildings. A small sign marked the office.

  “No harm in seeing if they’ll talk to me,” she said to herself as she got out of the car.

  Two men exited the office as she walked up. One spared a passing glance her way, but didn’t offer more than a nod.

  The other stopped and looked at her, offering a smile and his hand. “Help you ma’am?”

  He was bald, except for a rim of hair around the sides and back of his head. The top of his head was tanned with a tinge of red like he’d spent a little too long out in the sun. His smile was warm. He had the kind of build where he looked strong but there was a gut to go with that strength that said he didn’t spend time in a gym or watch what he ate.

  “My name’s Merritt McKenna. I just wanted to talk to you about the fire in the neighboring warehouse.” She shook his hand as she spoke and was happy when he didn’t flinch or pull back at her name. He either didn’t know she was a reporter or didn’t mind talking to one.

  He answered her debate with his next sentence. “You’re that reporter that’s been writing about the fires.”

  Merritt nodded and offered what she hoped was a dazzling smile, but she was honestly so tired she wasn’t sure. “I was hoping I might talk to someone who was here the night of the fire or maybe the next day.”

  It occurred to her the fire had happened late at night so there very likely wasn’t anyone here when it happened.

  Mr. Whitman walked back into the office, gesturing her inside and holding the door while she entered. There was a small room with a desk and chairs and coffee maker, and another room off to the side with two photocopiers. She could hear someone in that room and see a pair of feet sticking out like someone was laying on the floor, but couldn’t see anything more.

  Whitman gestured to one chair and sank into another. “I was here. Got on site about ten minutes after the firefighters and stayed the whole night to make sure it didn’t come across the field and threaten our buildings.” He looked around the office, but the gestures said he intended to encompass all of the building and the surrounding warehouses with the look. “We have a lot of product here, a lot of raw materials, too.”

  “You said you got here right after the firefighters?” Merritt pulled out a small recorder and held it up, a question in her eyes. When he nodded, she clicked it on. “Did you get a call about the fires?”

  She mostly hoped to just get him talking. Often, people would offer information if you gave
them half a chance.

  He gave a nod. “Night watchman. Poor kid. He’s in college and is pretty new out here. Usually the job is boring. He occasionally has to chase off high schoolers coming out this way looking for trouble, but for the most part, he’s paid to sit here and do his homework. He spotted the flames on his hourly rounds and called it in. He was pretty shaken up, even though it wasn’t on our land.”

  “You own this property?”

  He gave a one shouldered shrug. “Long term ground lease and we own all the buildings. Been here thirty years.”

  “So you were here when that warehouse was occupied?”

  “Sure. Seen a few tenants come and go in that place but it was in rough shape and the guy that owns it never wanted to do much build-out for anyone or maintenance when the building started needing repair. It got harder and harder for him to lease it.”

  She knew the answer to her next question but asked anyway. “Who leased it recently?”

  He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head as he seemed to test the limits of the chair’s ability to tilt back without tipping over. “Oh, let’s see. There was a guy who started a company selling some kind of exercise drink. Put a ton of money into it and filled that warehouse with product.”

  He let the front legs of his chair come to the floor again, sitting up and leaning to the side to talk around Merritt.

  “Liam, you remember that guy?”

  “Huh?” The voice was followed by the man who wore the boots she’d seen in the copyroom. He stood, lanky and lean, hands covered in blue gloves. The gloves were covered in what looked like toner from one of the machines.

  “That guy,” Mr. Whitman said, like this new person should know just who he was talking about. “Remember the guy who had that warehouse full up with energy drinks?” He looked to Merritt now. “He brought us a case on the house, swore it would be the next great thing. It was nasty.”

  He scrunched up his face with the memory as he laughed. “Nasty stuff. Felt like it could clean your gut out and I wondered if he’d just watered-down antifreeze and stuck it in a bottle with a label.”